Dear Gaius
by MonJoh
Summary: Hunith's perspective on canon events (because I don't write this wonderful woman enough).
1. The Dragon's Call

_My dear Gaius, I turn to you for I feel lost and alone and don't know who to trust. It is every mother's fate to think her child is special, and yet I would give my life that Merlin were not so. Ours is a small village and he is so clearly at odds with people here that, if he were to remain, I fear what would become of him. He needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. I beg you, if you understand a mother's love for her son, keep him safe, and may the gods save you both._

There was more I wanted to say, so much I wanted to explain. I knew the physician would dismiss my words as a mother's ramblings, a parent's natural conceit, but my hand had begun to shake and one tear had nearly spoiled the wet ink of the words I had already written. If Gaius was the man I believed, he would soon see for himself what Merlin was, and better yet what he could be.

My son believed I was angry that his friend Will discovered the magic, but Merlin doesn't truly understand the desperate fear that consumes me to this day. I've never told him about his father, or about the night that two score soldiers descended on our village, shouting and brandishing weapons. The noise was terrifying. I heard crashes and bangs that could only be the meagre furnishings of huts being thrown around mingled with children's screams and a woman crying. A dog growled and then whimpered in pain.

Then the crashes and bangs were inside my own hut and a strange man with a helmet that covered his head and nose was yelling at me. I couldn't comprehend what he said so he grabbed my arm and dragged me from my blankets. My arm was sore the next day with a great purple mark the size of his large hand. Many of my fellow villagers sported bruises the next day. Thank the gods no one was killed.

It was pure chance that Balinor was away with the village men when the soldiers came, the soldiers the mad king had sent to search for my man. The men had gone hunting and a furious rainstorm had forced them to seek shelter an extra day. My heart shrivels in fear when I think what would have happened had Balinor been taken by the soldiers that night. They would have dragged him back to Camelot and he would have been dead within a day. That sweet, gentle, loving man would have died for a mad king's revenge.

It was infuriating. And it was heart-wrenching. Balinor commanded a power I could barely imagine, power to make that gigantic, alien creature I had glimpsed bow before him. In that moment I understood how special a person had to be to be gifted with that power. To have the man who looked dragons in the eye and bent them to his will look at me with tenderness and love, I can hardly comprehend it now. I'm no beautiful lady to turn men's heads, yet I know he looked at me in a way he never looked at another woman. I treasure the little time we had in each other's arms. How could anyone wish to harm this tender, caring man who never abused the awesome power he had?

He had been so open, so trusting, so willing to risk his life to make peace with the mad king. It had nearly cost his life and I have Gaius to thank that it did not. When Balinor returned to me safe, well in body though tortured in mind, I gave thanks to the gods for putting that brave physician in a place where he could aid in the escape and for giving him the courage to do so. It is no small thing to go against the mad king and Gaius had nowhere to run had he been caught. He took the chance, and my man came back to me so I could hold him in my arms again. The dragons were dead or gone, he was broken, he was powerless, but he was alive. I thought we could live the rest of our lives as ordinary lovers but the soldiers came and Balinor had to run again.

The knowledge that those men might one day come looking for my son was a terror I lived with every day. I knew we were not beyond the reach of the mad king, not in our isolated village, not in another kingdom. We could not hide.

But now, the knowledge of my son's special gifts terrifies me more than the chance of discovery. Even as a boy he could do things I know Balinor was incapable of. What might he do when he grows to manhood? It is beyond my ability to nurture or even understand, let alone the simple understanding of my fellow villagers. They can see it in Merlin, though they do not know what they see, but I think I have glimpsed the truth: an aura of power surrounds the boy, and it has grown with him.

Gaius is the only one I trust to see that potential for greatness and the only one I believe can foster it. He will know what to do. He will smooth the path for my son to a destiny that I hope will not consume him in the end.

* * *

 _Thanks to DaleJ for beta._


	2. The Moment of Truth

We were in desperate need. Our lord refused to help and our appeals to King Cenred had gone unanswered. I privately suspected our beloved king was in league with the bandits who menaced us, or at least received some personal benefit from their activities. Perhaps they saved him the expense of patrolling his own borders. In any case, we had few choices. We could let Kanen take it all and watch our children and elders die slowly through the winter, or we could take a chance on my proposal.

Occasionally a letter had made its way to me, usually months old before I saw it, and more often from Gaius than my boy. But I knew he had found a place in the king's own household, beside the prince, the very child whose birth had caused me such heartache in the mad king's rampage. Life takes odd twists. But in this perhaps there was justice to be served; the mad king could finally repay our village for the destruction his soldiers wrought nearly twenty years ago by offering us the protection of those same soldiers from Kanen and his brutish raiders.

The others in the village contributed food and an extra cloak, even Old Man Simmons who believed I was on a fool's errand. I walked from first light until full dark ad ate cold food by moonlight, afraid to light a fire because I had no protection from bandits. My right eye was tender but I could open it now and see a little better. I told myself this mission was for the village, our last hope. It was only as I fell asleep each night, my legs aching and my feet cramped from leagues of travel on foot through forest and field, my belly barely appeased by the bit of the bread and few berries and mushrooms I scrounged while walking, that I admitted the truth. I made this journey because I was driven to see my boy well and safe, to feel my child's arms around me again.

When I saw him, I wondered that I could still think of him as a child. I had forgotten he was now taller than I and the strength in his arms when he hugged me was a shock, but the brightness in his beautiful blue eyes told me he missed me nearly as much as I missed him. Despite his fury on my behalf at the ugly green mark that circled my right eye, I could not regret the injury that gave me an excuse to see my son. His ears turned red and his gaze darted around to determine if anyone had seen his mother kiss him on the brow.

We were in the public market, a place with more people than I had seen at one time all squeezed between wooden stalls and moving carts, the stink of horses and sweaty bodies seemingly sunk into the stones at my feet. Instead of the honest smell of chickens and pigs, it was a stench of horses and humanity. The noise of people shouting and talking and haggling made me want to clap my hands over my ears, but none of them took the least notice of us.

Within the hour I had told my tale to Merlin and Gaius and explained that I hoped for an audience with the king. Already, I could see that Gaius had taken good care of my boy. It relieved my last doubt that I had done the right thing in sending him here. Finally my sweet child had a father figure who knew how special he was and loved him for it, but at the same time a sharp jealous sting pricked my heart. In Balinor's absence, I had gotten all the hugs that otherwise I would have had to share. This was my baby boy. I had fed him, tucked him into bed at night, stitched his clothes, tended his bruises and cuts, answered his questions, and soothed his fears. How dare someone else get his affection? Gaius had knowledge I could not hope to match, that's why I trusted him with my boy's future. But how could he steal those hugs that belonged to me?

When Merlin agreed to come back to Ealdor, promising not to leave me unprotected again, I rejoiced that he had chosen me. But even as we rode through the tall arched gateway leaving that smelly packed mass of indifferent people behind, I saw in his eyes that Ealdor would never be his home again. He had found the place I always wished he would find: a place to belong. I would not take that away from him, no matter how much I missed his sweet smile, his bright blue eyes, and his goodnight hugs. I took comfort that part of the man he was growing to be was due to my love and care of the precious child he had been.


	3. Le Morte d'Arthur

It was no ordinary illness, I knew that even without seeing the frightened expression of the village healer. In that moment, I knew two things: I was dying and I wanted to see my son. It was not only that he and Gaius were the only ones who might be capable of saving me, it was also – perhaps even more so – that I couldn't bear to leave this world without another glimpse of his face.

Gwen has a good heart. I appreciated her tender care, her cool hands bathing my disfigured face with a wet rag, and the sympathy in her brown eyes when everyone else looked at me with horror. But her kind-hearted attention could not soothe me as much as the sight of my boy. He spoke sweetly as he pressed a rabbit's foot into my boil-covered hand, but the only luck I needed was his loving hand clasping mine. It took all the strength I could dredge up, but I had to press my palm against his cheek. As my fingers brushed his skin, I knew that my prayers would be answered. The gods would look after him.


	4. The Sword in the Stone

Occasionally over the years a letter arrived, but the news it contained was always older than word of the latest catastrophe to menace Camelot. I could never rest easy. I never knew if the latest disaster that swirled around Uther's court and then Arthur's had taken my son from me forever. I trusted Prince Arthur – King Arthur, now – because I knew he cared for my son as much as my son cared for him. They would keep each other safe until their last breaths, but I feared constantly that one or both of them had already breathed his last and no one had yet told me.

It broke my heart to learn that beautiful girl who had fought with us against Kanen was now Arthur's sworn enemy and, of course, my son's. She had been so strong but so compassionate. Even now, I remember the warmth in her hands as she took my arm and lifted me to my feet when King Uther refused to help Ealdor. I don't know how she could possibly have done the things said of her. It makes me wonder if there was a time when the mad king had been a kind and compassionate youth like his daughter.

Gwen told me a little of what had happened to her mistress and friend, but it deepened the sadness in her kind, brown eyes. That poor girl had enough heartbreak to deal with; I would not increase her pain by talking of past sorrows.

Gwen was a hard worker and capable of the meanest task despite her upbringing as a lady's maid. She had a talent for sewing – her tiny, even stitches were a marvel to the other women in the village – but she did not blink at getting her hands filthy digging in the garden to plant vegetables or feeding pigs. I think keeping busy kept her from dwelling on the fall from grace that sent a serving maid who had been betrothed to a king scurrying from Camelot.

I did not pry into the truth behind the wild tales circulating about her, but I knew there was more behind her flight to Ealdor than banishment. Something had happened, something was about to happen, and Gwen knew. She wasn't telling the full tale but it involved a possible invasion and I feared for my son. Danger was looming again, so the sight of my beautiful boy's face was even more of a joy when I saw him alive and well.

It is unsettling when your baby boy can lift you off your feet with his hug. Despite the euphoria of our reunion and the threat of pursuit, I examined him closely. His face was more angular, his chest thicker, his arms more muscled. And his eyes held depths I could barely comprehend. He wasn't a boy any longer.

After the bustle of feeding their party – apparently they had not eaten since supper the day before – and tending to the wounded woman and injured king, we had a moment to talk. It was just the two of us, like it had been for so many years of his childhood.

He told me of Balinor. I knew he was keeping back details he probably thought would hurt me, but to know they had met, even briefly, released a pain I hadn't realized still occupied my heart. I never hoped for them to know each other because I knew it could never be. I remembered well how protective Balinor was, he would not have looked on my face as long as Uther was alive.

From bits and pieces that Merlin let slip in our brief conversation, I pieced together what an isolated life my dear Balinor had after our parting. As lonely as I had been without him, at least I had had our son and a village of companions. Things that had been denied to my man.

I will not speak ill of the dead, but I cannot mourn Uther's passing. Arthur will be twice the king his father ever was. I believe that in my soul, even though my only meeting with the mad king had shown me a wise ruler who seemed truly to regret not assisting my village. I can credit him that much, and for the son he raised. For all his faults, Uther played a part in who Arthur was today, just as I played a part in the man Merlin was.

When my boy and his companions were forced to flee into the dark, for a moment I felt transported back to that night when the mad king's soldiers descended on our village. But as soon as Arthur's party were spotted, the barbarians with their torches followed them to the tunnels and left us be.

I saw the dragon flame from the village. The others screamed in fear, more terrified than they had been when the barbarians marched through, but I laughed. I laughed to know that great creature was free. It would not hurt my son, it would protect him. My only worry was whether I would have the chance to look on my boy's face again in this life, or if events were taking him so high above me I would not see him again.


End file.
